When the Gem awakens to call a Hero, the world is ill prepared...and its fate is placed in the hands of a 17 year old boy, named Wendell.
Some will say this is nothing but a tale of fiction.
Let them think as they may.
After all...I can’t fix stupid.
Previously: Wendell and his friends escape through the gnome Prime Gate, and Morty helps fulfill the true prophecy about the Gnolaum…as Clockworks plunges into darkness.
Made with AI trained only on my own artwork. The honest story of how, and why →
EPILOGUE
The night sky blazed with a million billion stars.
Worlds without number, populated with life forms ready to be dominated...or so the legends told.
It was of no concern to Thule. His passion and lust lay in this world, at least for now. His focus was swallowed up in the pain and blood of conflict.
Should he succeed and free the Master, his greatest desire would be granted him.
Revenge.
Beautiful, viscous revenge.
His sharp teeth grated against each other.
There can be only one.
His free hand reached out to steady the scroll spread upon the desk.
The gentle swaying of the sea was another great annoyance. One he longed to see the end of.
“You are certain,” he growled, his steel fingers tightening around the throat of the mägo.
The Täuku coughed, fingers scraping across the wood of the desk. “Y-yessss,...my...lord. To the...eassst isss...my own homeland!” The dozen tentacles shuddered around the creature’s long lips. “I sssswear!!”
It would be so easy to simply snap his worthless neck. But he knew it would not be wise. Thule required every mägo aboard to accomplish his next task. The crews were restless. All supplies had been consumed days ago, forcing him to portion out the slaves among the ships. He was quickly running out of them as well.
He would need mägo to keep his killers in line.
Five great warships, filled with the most vile and bloodthirsty of his army, tested and proven in the battles of the Tilliman Highlands and King Robert’s attempts to rally his own people to arms.
Now they sat upon the waters of the sea, lost.
A roar upon the deck ripped through the night.
The sound was immediately followed by the scuffling of feet, heavy and deliberate.
Thule released his hold on the magic-user.
The fights had begun.
Grabbing his weapon belt, he fastened it around his waist.
But the path of the running did not stop. The sound trailed down the stairs, ending with a thunderous pounding on Thule’s cabin door.
“General Thule, we’s have a sighting!”
“Enter!”
The hunched beast master flung the door wide and gave a deep bow. “We did found it!”
The Täuku, still gasping for breath, moved back from the captain’s desk as Thule rounded the corner.
“You are certain...”
Saliva dripped from the swollen, pierced lower lip of the Vallen. “Aye my Lord, bright lights they was, flaring out like the stars above. Brighter and brighter they sang...until all at once, they was gone.”
Three quick strides were all it took to close the gap between them. Though the beast master dwarfed Thule in size, the general slammed the giant into the door jamb effortlessly. “Gone?”
The creature nodded frantically, “Aye, but we’s marked the spot by the stars, we did! Will be there before the rising sun...”
Releasing his grip, Thule shoved past the brute and lunged up the stairs.
“Raise the sails!” he roared.
“But there’s no wind, my Lord,” replied the lieutenant.
“Then oars in the water!” Thule drew his sword, sneering at the crewmen. “If you want food and blood, then you ROW!”
He licked his lips.
“We attack Pävärios at dawn!”
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